


How To Carry Princesses

by CheerUpLovely



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Cravings, Established Relationship, F/M, Hormones, Mood Swings, Parenthood, Pregnancy, Twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 16:19:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5097152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheerUpLovely/pseuds/CheerUpLovely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous said: Olicity+ pregnancy hormones/mood swings/cravings</p><p>lifesucksanyaways said: Hey, I had a crazy idea for a fic and I thought you could wrire it, if is not asking too much. My idea was, Oliver and Felicity expecting twins and a in sight on the pregnancy with a paragraph of each months wrost thing, one with craving, morning sickness, hormones, the baby kicking etc</p>
            </blockquote>





	How To Carry Princesses

It amuses Felicity that when they tell people they’re expecting twins, the first thing out of their mouth is ‘congratulations’.

Well, first it’s amusing. After, it’s downright annoying.

But yay, awesome, fabulous news, the Queen’s are having twins. Well done, Oliver Queen, for your wonderful sperm that did a damn fine job of creating not one, but two babies! Two! That’s literally twice as good as any father-of-one did at the conception part. All hail Oliver Queen, God of Sex. Felicity Smoak-Queen, vessel of the future Queen offspring…good luck.

Okay, so she’ll only have one labour, but two kids, so that’s a bonus. They’ll have their family of four ready made and they won’t have to worry about raising a toddler with a newborn, so that’s a plus. And there’s two babies that will obviously be the most beautiful babies in existence at the end of it (and that’s true because she’s seen the Queen family albums now and their babies are always flawless).

But there’s also a lot of downsides. A lot of them.

Like…ninety-percent downsides.

Morning sickness is a given. She spends an entire eight weeks no more than ten feet from a bathroom, and if she does have to travel, she does so with a wastepaper bin in her lap for accidental vomitting - all the time, it happens all the time - so she doesn’t really understand the term of ‘glowing’ as much as roasting in her own body because two babies are twice as hot to carry and she doesn’t feel hot at all.  

The healthy diet she’s picked up through years of living with Oliver goes out the window, because she’s not just dealing with her inability to keep food down, but also food aversions she’s never experienced before, the sudden hatred of half the smells on earth and a constant desire to eat which just makes the whole experience even more cruel.

Oliver finds a whole list of morning sickness tips. She skips to the bottom of the list where it suggests to sleep through the nausea.

As if the morning sickness - which continues through most of the pregnancy - wasn’t bad enough, hello, heartburn!

Heartburn is the devil of pregnancy. Everything is the devil of pregnancy with twins. So with morning sickness encouraging to her only stomach greasy foods and cans of 7Up, both gave her uncontrollable heartburn. Oh, and sleeping through the nausea? Yeah, that doesn’t go down to well with the heartburn which means she has to stay upright after eating. That doesn’t well into her plan of laying in bed and watching Netflix.

The heartburn also wants her not to drink during meals. Except she relies on the ice water to stop her throwing up immediately after. This pregnancy is trying to kill her, she’s sure of it.

Oliver reads on the internet that papaya can help. He makes her a papaya smoothie. She immediately vomits on his socks. It’s at least more brightly coloured than the rest of the vomit accidents which they’ve chosen to decide have brought them closer together.

And don’t even get her started on the weight gain. Felicity’s a very tiny girl, and she’d been worried about how much she might gain with one babies, but now there’s two, and that’s twice the weight to carry around, let alone the padding that comes with it. That’s two babies worth of extra fluids, tissue, uterine growth and increased blood volume. She feels like she’s growing an adult human for all the weight she’s gaining, and her shoes don’t fit her and her clothes don’t fit her, and even Oliver’s shirts don’t fit her, and all that does fit her is her giant bathrobe which barely ties over her stomach and she’s not at all sexy anymore.

Which is rough, because all that increased blood volume from the extra baby growth? It’s making her horny as hell. Horny all the time. She’s actually managed to out-horny Oliver most days, which is hard because she doesn’t know how to work with all this extra weight and no matter how they try to get comfortable it’s never comfortable enough so sex is rarely as satisfying as she’s heard it is during pregnancy.

The general aches and pains are bad enough. Leg cramp is a curse she hasn’t expected, and her ligaments are complaining most of the time. But the real killer is carpal tunnel. Yeah, that’s a real thing for pregnancy. That’s the part that reduced her to tears, because the swelling and the fluid retention are pressing down so badly on the nerves in her wrist that it makes her full-on ugly cry, because now, she struggles to type.

Felicity Smoak-Queen, struggling to type.

It gets so bad she has to wear splints on her wrists sometimes. Her doctor assures her that the symptoms will go away after pregnancy, but she feels as though she’s lost the final part of herself after her body and her sanity. Oliver’s with her every time her hands hover painfully over the keyboard after a few short moments, massaging his thumbs on the inside of her wrists. It helps more than the splint does.

Stretch marks are something she’s just accepted that she’ll have. It’s not like she doesn’t already have thin silvery lines on the insides of her thighs from her teenage growth years (all women have them, right?), so it’s no surprise at all when the angry stretch marks on her stomach look as though the babies are trying to claw their way out of her skin.

When the stretch marks bother her on her worst I-hate-this-body days, she cheers herself up by bragging to Oliver that she’ll have more battle scars than he does.

She doesn’t sleep much anymore. How can she? If she manages to get her back comfortable, she’s cursing her legs ability to settle or the cramp that sets in, and she has to get up to go to the bathroom every time she tries to shut her eyes.

And she’s huge. Her stomach’s so huge that she starts knocking things off the table if she walks too close to it. She’s huge, and she’s tired, and she’s stretched, and she’s aching, and she’s crampy, and she needs to pee all the time, and there’s so much wrong with this pregnancy and so many things she hates and—

“Oh god, they’re so beautiful,” she cries over her twin girls when they’re finally here, one in her arms, one in Oliver’s as they sit shoulder-to-shoulder in a hospital bed.

“So perfect,” Oliver agrees, his voice choked as he leans down to kiss his daughter’s forehead. “I can’t believe we have two,” he half-laughs.

“Yeah,” she says, wiping away the tears still spilling onto cheeks. “….now what do we do?”


End file.
